Escambia County Board of Commissioners 2016
I almost got my start as a political operative in 1972. A neighbor who had a daughter my age was running for the Escambia County Board of Commissioners. I hung out at their house in those days for three reasons. The whole family was cool, the daughter was cute, and my good friend lived next door.
The candidate invited me and my friend to join the family at some kind of big event. Our job would be to walk around wearing t-shirts that read “Charlie who?” on the front and “Charlie Smith for County Commission” on the back. Mr. Smith told us to be at his house at 2 PM on Saturday to ride to the event in his motorhome. I was wildly excited.
I arranged for my father to pick me up early from my job as a bag boy at the Jitney Jungle grocery store. I raced into the house when we got home and took a shower and put on clean clothes. I raced to the meeting point on my motorcycle and arrived at least 20 minutes early, but no one was there. The motorhome was gone. No one was in the house and my friend was not next door. They had left early. I had been forgotten. I felt hurt and angry.
I did not realize as a 15-year old boy that the feelings I was feeling had to do with more than the candidate and his family forgetting me. That incident linked up with other occasions of being left out or forgotten or over looked. Looking back, I see what happened as a small thing. Looking back, I realize that I could have asked my father to give me a ride to the event so that I could catch up with my friends and join the festivities, but I gave up when I realized I had been forgotten.
Forgetting me was on them. Giving up was on me.
Note: There is an important point in the story of Noah and the Flood that often goes unnoticed. Given my history, I noticed… “God had not forgotten Noah…” (Genesis 8:1).
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